Tale of a Viper and a Doe || Oberyn Martell

ix. the bastard's blade

Ilyn groaned as light flooded her room, the sound of a person pulling back the very purposefully shut window blinds audible throughout the otherwise silent chambers. It was the morning of the royal wedding, and Ilyn most certainly did not feel like waking quite yet.

Her eyes still closed, Ilyn began to slap at the space next to her to tell Oberyn to go get rid of whoever was interrupting her beauty sleep—only to meet thin air. The mattress was still warm, indicating that he had only recently vacated the room, but the Prince of Dorne was nowhere to be found. For a moment, Ilyn marveled at the fact that she had not woken up when he had left; she was usually a rather light sleeper.

"It is time to wake up mi'lady. The breaking fast celebration for the wedding begins in three hours, and there is much to be done."

The princess in question merely shoved her face into her pillow. "Fuck off Liz."

Elizabeth Farbrook had been Ilyn's handmaiden since the time Ilyn had first come to King's Landing, and when Ilyn had set off on her travels around the known world Liz had been one of the handmaidens selected to accompany her—and the only handmaiden Ilyn had chosen to accompany her when she eventually jumped ship in favor of a less crowded crew. She was a tall, russet-haired woman from the Riverlands, and easily one of Ilyn's closest friends.

"Ilyn, get your scrawny ass out of that bed or so help me I will actually poor ice-fucking-cold water on you."

She also had one of the sharpest tongues Ilyn had ever encountered. Suffice to say, the two had been quick friends. And they had long ago abandoned any notion of a formal handmaiden-princess relationship.

Suddenly, the covers were thrown from Ilyn's bed and she darted into a sitting position, hissing at her handmaiden who stood above her with a stern look.

"Get out of the fucking bed, mi'lady," Liz all but commanded her, turning on her heel and walking towards Ilyn's bathroom.

With any noble save Ilyn and perhaps a select few others, such harsh language by a servant would be rewarded with a dismissal from duty and a tarnished reputation—but Ilyn was always one to break from such limiting customs, and she welcomed the change of pace and undeniable humor of her handmaiden. They merely had to be careful such that such words were not traded in front of other nobles who would deem such abrasive language unseemly.

Ilyn threw a pillow after the handmaiden, who very easily dodged it. She supposed there was a reason she had never been particularly good at archery.

"I'll draw you your bath and you can wash yourself, but the Queen Regent has commanded me to help you with your dress and hair such that you look acceptable at her precious son's wedding." Liz shook her head as she continued to the bathroom, murmuring under her breath, "Fucking bitch."

Ilyn had not been able to spend much time with Liz since the two had returned to King's Landing as Cersei had insisted that because Ilyn frequently insisted on dressing and washing herself, when she was not directly attending Ilyn the handmaiden's services would be better utilized in the kitchens.